


Death

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tiny dab of angst i guess, Vaginal Sex, not rlly much to put here tbh, very straight forward trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After years, you visited your former Commander's grave, only for someone else to join you there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first fic I posted here, but I had deleted it after feeling unsatisfied with where it was going.  
> But, I'm about to hit a milestone for views and figured I would re-publish this one (but just the first chapter)  
> Can't think of a special title but whatever, enjoy my trash.

The air was rather cold for a summer evening; sun dipping between clouds on the western horizon, painting the sky in a tangerine glow to last until night came.

As you stepped quietly up the overgrown, cement stairs to your destination, a breeze picked up, raising the hairs on your arms. You clutched the bouquet of hydrangea flowers in your hands a little closer to your body, almost as if in concern that the chill would wither away the soft blue petals within moments.

Taking the last step to your destination, you come to a small clearing between a circle of trees. The grass was overgrown with neglect. Weeds had taken over a good part of the area, and old leaves from last fall littered the ground.

 _'It’s been much too long since I’ve been here,'_ you thought, as you stepped to the north end of the small, enclosed clearing.

Kneeling down, you brushed away dirt and dead leaves, fully revealing the small stone marker below, and delicately placed the flowers you had clutched in your arms above it.

The marker itself was barely more than a foot in length, and had clearly been left in just as bad shape as the clearing it was in. You knew nobody visited this place. It had been made mostly by you with some help of Jesse McCree, with whom you shared a bond with over being taken in by the same man some time ago. But you knew McCree never intended on coming back after helping you. It was likely he only helped you so you could mourn properly, as opposed to out of respect for the late mentor the two of you shared.

Your fingers traced over the slightly worn engraving in the grave marker.

Gabriel Reyes

There was nothing else but the name engraved. No dates, none of the embellishment like “beloved son, sibling” or anything like that. You knew when making this grave that it wouldn’t likely be seen by anyone but yourself and your old friend Jesse. You felt a pain in your chest out of guilt for letting the little grave site go so neglected while you were out travelling; trying to live a more normal, quiet life.

Your teeth gently pressed into your lower lip as you placed your hands on the ground. There were so many regrets in your mind. So much self blame, on not being able to keep Gabriel from getting consumed by his anger and jealousy over the Strike Commander. You couldn’t keep the only family you had together.

Thoughts you had tried to escape for so long were becoming pervasive. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon some time ago and you were left in the dark, the half-moon in the sky giving you just bare visibility. But you weren’t really paying attention; your mind hurt, your eyes had begun to sting.

It wasn’t until something was pressed against the back of your head that you realized you weren’t alone.

“I wouldn’t consider visiting random graves a good hobby.”

The voice that spoke was gravelly, and sounded almost like something expected from a movie demon more than a human being. Something about it sent a shock of cold down your spine, to the very core of your body. This was a chill completely unlike the unusual summer breeze from earlier, but instead penetrated deep into your bones.

Being afraid wasn’t something you experienced much anymore, but you were certainly caught unprepared, and would have to face whoever, or whatever, was there head on.

Trying to get your bearings back together quickly, and turned your head to face the mysterious visitor. You came to face to what had been on the back of your head - were practically staring down the barrel of a shotgun, until you looked past it at the figure holding the large gun.

You recoiled in shock, and it seemed almost as if the weapon being pointed at you was recoiled slightly in surprise as well, albeit, less obvious than your own reaction. Why would he be surprised? Did he not expect to see you turn around?

Your fear turned into surprise, as you were expecting some random average criminal but instead were faced with something bizarre. You could only really make out in the darkness that the man was wearing all black with a hood, donning a strange skull-like mask.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” You practically spat venom with your words. It felt like some sort of stupid prank or some punk running around to freak people out with an outfit and mask like that. The gun pointed at you lowered more, and you took the opportunity to stand and look straight into the ‘face’ of the masked man. “If you’re going to bother people, maybe you should consider bothering people who aren’t visiting the graves of loved ones.”

The stranger took a step closer to you. “Loved ones?” the dark, ghastly voice struck your spine with a chill once more. There was a tone of amusement in his voice you felt entirely uncomfortable with. You tried to subtly step back, but didn’t move much, as you were concerned for the grave and flowers directly behind your feet.

“Well I suppose a dead man would appreciate knowing someone from when he lived visited him, but…” he tossed aside the guns in his hands away to the ground, the black holes of his mask intently trained on your confused, angry face. “I’m going to make sure you never come back to this place again.”

It was in a quick motion that you could barely keep up with that the man closed the distance, snaked an arm around your waist and slammed you against the nearest tree that hung over the gravestone. All air felt pushed out of your lungs from the shock and force of his actions. His free hand came to your face, where he grabbed your cheek; hooking his thumb under your chin. The gloves were claw-like, sharp metal fingertips pushed onto your flesh as he held your face.

Reflexively, you reached for the gun at your side. But there was no gun - you didn’t fight anymore, you hadn’t fought in a long time.

As if noticing, the hooded man had let out a low, breathy chuckle. It really set the fear into your mind and you struggled against him, trying to push him off, but his grip around you was tight.  
In response to your struggling, he quickly snagged up both of your wrists with the hand that had held your waist, and gripped them tightly behind your back, limiting your movement.

“Just get off me, this isn’t funny.” realization set in a short time ago this was never a joke, but part of you, perhaps your pride, didn’t want to really acknowledge to yourself you were in trouble.

Ignoring your plea, he reached down and, using the sharp metal on his gloves, tore the shorts you were wearing off. You gasped, and had begun to desperately cry out for help, but he all too quickly shoved the fabric of your torn bottoms into your mouth, silencing you to nothing but a muffled sound that nobody would ever hear.

Keeping your wrists firmly restricted behind you, his free hand torturously slid down to between your legs, a gloved finger rubbing against your warm slit through your panties. The cold metal feeling was barely prevented by the thin undergarment separating his unwanted touchings. Letting out a muffled moan of defeat, you clenched your eyes closed, turning your head away from him. You felt completely defeated, and only hoped at this point that he wouldn’t go as far as you think he would; you knew deep down it wouldn’t be so simple.

Feeling the sensitive nub on your warmth, his finger began to focus on it. You could tell he was relishing in the tiny sounds of protest you made while your body shivered and jerked from the stimulation. Your tightly shut eyes stung with tears practically begging to come out, but you held on to trying to be as closed off from what was happening as possible; despite the conflicting feelings your body was giving you from the acts of your assailant.

The masked man lifted his hand for a moment only to slip it beneath your underwear, not even bothering to take his gloves off to continue his assault on you; talon rubbing up and down your slit in an agonizing taunt. You could feel the wetness he was rubbing around your warm hole, and cursed your body for betraying your mind.

Deciding to himself that you were ready, - or, that he was ready - your attacker pulled you onto the ground, making certain to fall with himself on top of you. In the shock of sudden movement and hitting the ground, you opened your eyes to be met with his bone-like mask almost directly in front of your face; your eyes pleaded into the dark sockets as if it might help stop what was happening to you.

But it didn’t. He reached down and tore your undergarments off, leaving your bottom completely bare and vulnerable to him; before taking one of his gloves off to give you a final few strokes against your wet heat, gently teasing the entrance has he ran cold, rough fingers against it. His fingers felt colder against your skin than the metal on his gloves had. He paused for a moment, looking down at you and your exposed body. You weren’t sure if his prying eyes were taking you in, or he was pausing in thought.

You assumed the latter, as he reached up and grabbed the fabric of your torn clothes at your mouth. He continued to stay paused as if deciding for certain whether or not to pull the makeshift gag. He opted to pull it out, a trail of your saliva connecting your lips and the gag before it broke off and settled on the corner of your mouth to your chin. Even that in itself felt degrading - your mind couldn’t stop hyper-processing everything that was happening, and every sensation your body was going through.

You opted out of trying this time to cry for help in a pathetic attempt to minimize the damage you were going through.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize your aggressor had undone his pants and belt, until you felt him start to tease against your entrance with his thick, erect cock. Even that part of him was inhumanly cold. You recoiled your hips away from his lewd advance, gasping for a moment before letting out a shameful whimper of fear. He pulled his face and upper body away from you, but jerked your hips back into place as he teasingly rubbed the tip of his thick cock against your hot, aching entrance.

Putting both of his hands firmly on your thighs, he pushed himself in up to half of his length. You cried out as he did, the hot tearing sensation bringing small tears to your eyes. He took a moment to readjust and then slammed himself all the way in, eliciting another cry out of your mouth, as he grunted in satisfaction; taking in the feeling of the warmth wrapped around him before slowly drawing out, inserting himself back more gently this time and settling into fucking you in a steady pace. Your arms felt limp and numb, your mouth slightly open as you tried to catch your breath. The only thing you could feel was the connected part between the two of you, and the still-gloved hand he had holding your thigh, tightly enough that the metal claws on them lightly punctured your skin.

The pain of his assault subsided to a dull ache and he continued to push in and out of you, gradually adding more force and speed to his thrusts. His bare hand released your thigh and he brought a finger to your clit, gently rubbing it along with the motion of his thrusts. Despite what you wanted, your body started to feel a tension build, and without even knowing your hips rocked slightly against his motions, as you begun to pant and whimper from the onslaught of sensations.

“P-please…” you tried to plead for him to stop rubbing you along with his assault. It felt so shameful to you that your body was experiencing pleasure against your mind’s consent, but you felt too weak and consumed to continue the request for him to stop. You were feeling angry with yourself for only being able to muster a pathetic “please”

“I suppose if you want me to indulge you,” he chuckled as he spoke in response to your poor attempt at a cry to stop. He knew what you meant, but chose to take it another way, slipping his arm around your waist once more to pull you closer, bringing the two of you into an upright sitting position without so much as interrupting the tempo of his cock pushing in and out of you. Once he had a good hold on you in the new position, he picked up his pace, the sound of your skin slapping against him as he began to mercilessly pound into you. You continued to cry and whimper from both the pain, as well as shame of your body building up with intense pleasure for the experience. You could certainly tell your attacker was enjoying himself as well, as he began to grunt and pant as well.

Suddenly, your peak felt just within reach. “N-no…!” you tried to mentally prevent it, but couldn’t hold back anymore and cried out as you reached your climax, your inner walls erratically contracting around his invading member; waves of shameful pleasure washing over you as you whimpered.

Caught by the surprise of your orgasm, the masked had hit his own peak.

He called out your name as he buried himself all the way inside you, ribbons of thick cum spilling into your insides as he clutched your body flush against his until his release finished, and holding himself there for a little bit after that.

Finally, with a sickening sound, he pulled out of you and put your limp body back onto the ground.

Only a glance was spared in his direction as he adjusted himself without paying any mind to your half-naked body as you lay there. You felt so many overwhelming emotions and physical sensations that moving wasn’t even an option. It was more of a state of shock that your body had put itself in than anything else.

It wasn’t until after the stranger picked up his guns and left, leaving a glance back at your body before a coherent thought clicked into your head. It practically snapped you back to reality.

He’d acted too much like he knew who you were - and why you were there. _He called you by your name._

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind while I don't really write for money, and tend to just do what ever I personally feel like writing, I /do/ take trades sometimes as long as I'm not too back-logged on them.  
> Feel free to visit me at blackwatchmimi.tumblr.com if you want to hit me up or anything like that.


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